


Skinny Love

by heelipabo



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Joe & Nicky, M/M, Meant to be angsty, Nicky & Joe, Nicky x Joe, Nicolo & Yusuf, The Old Guard - Freeform, Yusuf & Nicolo, cook!Nicky needs to be protected at all cost, featuring cheeky Booker, joe x nicky - Freeform, kaysanova, nurse!Joe will be my undoing, tog - Freeform, turned out as fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heelipabo/pseuds/heelipabo
Summary: They have been subconsciously playing cat & mouse for over 900 years.And everyone knows, except for those two clueless dummies.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 9
Kudos: 162





	Skinny Love

**Author's Note:**

> Another 'what if' short fic for you (I can't get enough of them - suffer with me).
> 
> Born out of an angsty thought of "Joe&Nicky never became a couple".  
> Originally intended for it to be angsty, but I couldn't help myself, so fluff all the way! (sort of)
> 
> Thanks [Em](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizEmily/pseuds/MizEmily) for being my beta again! <3
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://heelipabo.tumblr.com/) \- come say hi!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> *

It has taken Joe over 900 years to realize he may be in love with Nicolo di Genova. 

It’s such a delayed revelation it barely feels like one at all. Maybe he always knew, or at least for the majority of their lives fighting side by side. 

When they first met, all they wanted was to kill each other. Then that religion-driven hatred turned into a truce, and soon blossomed into the most beautiful form of partnership for which Joe could have ever wished. He’d die for Nicky without hesitation, and knows the other man would do the same for him - and they have many successful attempts on their lives to prove it. 

Even among their current immortal squad, they are known as partners. Andy pokes fun at them every now and then, saying they’re the most precious, non-romantic couple she’s ever met. It’s a mockery that usually ends with them shrugging it off because nothing could be closer to the truth. They fight together as one body, mirroring each other’s styles with the ease of 900 years of practice. They feed each other, and nothing makes Nicky happier than seeing the wide grin on Joe’s face as he prepares his favorite Italian dishes - ones that Nicky had converted his tastebuds to loving centuries ago.

They even sleep together. On the same bed, under one blanket. Sometimes Nicky seeks comfort in Joe’s embrace, and he lets him. Often, after a particularly nasty mission, Nicky beckons Joe to lay his head on Nicky’s chest so he can rub soothing circles into his temple.

They need each other like humans need air, and it shows. For all intents and purposes, they are together. Just not _together_ together.

Recently, however, feelings that Joe had buried right after they met during the Crusades are starting to resurface. He got rid of them back then because it didn’t feel right - they were still in the dark about one another, and there was bad blood between them, although it was fading. Those were uncertain times, both historically and between the two of them. 

And after 900 years, Joe can finally say with all certainty Nicky is the only one for him. 

At first, when those feelings threatened to reappear, Joe tried to find fatal flaws in Nicky, something to divert him off the path he was on, but the search backfired. Amidst all of it, Joe came to a crushing realization that no man he’s ever met or will ever meet will come close to the standards that Nicky set by simply being _himself_.

There’s not a single thing Joe doesn’t love about him, and he’s loved him for quite some time. 

Platonically for the most part. 

But now, as he watches Nicky do the simplest task of preparing their dinner at the Charlie safe house, Joe finds himself mesmerized by every single detail - from the slightly-too-long hair sneaking out from behind Nicky’s ear, to the warm smile he always puts on when doing something like cooking for the rest of them. It makes Nicky genuinely happy to be able to do something nice for them, and if that doesn’t make Joe fall for the guy even more he doesn’t know what could.

Joe’s ogling is brought to an abrupt end when Nicky slices a tomato the wrong way and lets out a shocked yelp. Joe jumps to his feet and reaches him in the time it takes Nicky to drop the knife on the cutting board.

“ _Merda_ ,” Nicky hisses. 

Joe wills his smile not to make an appearance at such a time, finding it endearing that Nicky only ever swears in his native language.

Joe invades Nicky’s personal space, their legs almost intertwined, and takes a closer look over the man’s shoulder. The tip of Nicky’s index finger is cut all the way to the bone, but it’s already starting to heal. 

Still, there is a lot of blood.

Joe reaches out and rips off a few paper towels from the roll in the rack on the counter. He doesn’t ask for permission when he gently grabs onto Nicky’s wrist and covers the injured hand in hopes of wiping off most of the blood.

Nicky inhales sharply at the rough sensation of the paper and closes his eyes, grimacing in pain. One of his legs starts jerking uncontrollably, which usually happens whenever Nicky gets injured outside of their missions. It’s interesting how he’s the epitome of composure when they’re out killing the bad guys, but he turns into a nervous puddle of mush when he gets as much as a papercut in their domestic setting. Maybe he’s conditioned his brain to only associate injury with gunfights and doesn’t consider that painful things may still happen at any other time.

When the wound is gone and there’s no trace of the incident other than Nicky’s blood all over the counter, the food, the scarlet-soaked pile of towels, and some remnants on his hand, Joe proceeds to clean the wooden surface. At first he humorously swats Nicky’s hand away when he tries to reach over to help, but then he just lets him when he sees Nicky’s expression. He’s in a foul mood and it’s always best to let him do what he needs to cool off.

Nicky scans the counter with a disappointed scowl. “The food is ruined. I’m really sorry,” he says as he gathers up all the prepared and to-be-diced ingredients and dumps them in the bin.

“We can order a pizza. You like pizza,” Joe suggests, offering Nicky the winning smile that tends to elicit a positive reaction from him.

Nicky just shrugs. “Do what you want, I’m not hungry anymore,” he says and walks away, mumbling something about going to the bathroom to properly clean his hand. 

He passes Booker on the way and doesn’t offer him even a glance of recognition before he disappears through the archway leading onto a hallway. Booker slumps on the couch, looking toward the direction Nicky went.

“What’s up with our ray of sunshine?” 

Joe takes out two beer bottles from the fridge and walks over to Booker. “He cut himself while making dinner,” he replies as he passes Booker the bottle, his good mood from before gone and replaced with that familiar twinge in his gut.

Booker nods slowly. He knows how sometimes insignificant things can set Nicky off. “So no spaghetti then? Shame, I was looking forward to those meatballs.”

Joe glares at him despite his best efforts not to. Booker has been on the receiving end of that stare so many times he’s grown immune to it. 

He stretches out his legs as he fishes out a lighter from his front jeans pocket and pops open the bottle with the plastic end. “Should you, I dunno, go after him?”

Joe, who is still standing by the couch, looks down at his friend with furrowed brows.

“Why?” 

In response, Booker gives him his best ‘ _you’re kidding, right?_ ’ look and takes a swig of the beer.

Without saying anything, Joe puts down his bottle on the coffee table, walks over to the kitchen counter and pulls out an instant spaghetti cup. He throws it at Booker from a distance of nearly twenty feet as he’s already making his way toward the hallway.

“There, go nuts.”

* * *

Joe finds Nicky perched on the bathtub, his hand still bloody. He’s looking at it with that distant look he gets sometimes.

“Wanna talk?” Joe asks as he leans against the open door of the bathroom.

“Not really,” Nicky replies. “I should clean it though,” he adds, but makes no attempt to stand up and get to the sink.

Joe grabs one of their clean towels from a pile and runs it under warm water. Once the material is thoroughly soaked, he squeezes out the excess water and crouches on one knee in front of Nicky. He directs his hand to hang off Nicky’s knee and proceeds to clean it with unhurried, gentle swipes. 

“I hate it,” Nicky whispers after a moment and Joe freezes, his pulse spiking. Has he done something wrong? He didn’t hurt Nicky in any way, did he?

“I can stop if you want,” Joe says, doing his best to mask the ache in his voice. 

He goes to stand up, but Nicky frantically grabs onto the long sleeve of his gray shirt.

“No, not that. I didn’t mean _that_. In fact, it felt nice.” Nicky offers him a soft smile before his cheeks take on a delicate shade of red, so faint Joe thinks he’s imagining it. “Please, continue,” he pleads and Joe doesn’t have to be told twice. 

He sinks back to the ground, this time sitting with both of his legs folded beneath him, and resumes his task.

“What is it then?” He asks as he turns Nicky’s hand palm up, with Joe’s other hand looped loosely around Nicky’s wrist to hold it steady.

“I _needed_ this meal to turn out good. And I ruined it.” 

“You didn’t. I told you, we could get a pizza,” Joe’s tone is light and bubbly in hopes it rubs off on Nicky, but the man just frowns at Joe’s words. His eyes glimmer in a harbinger of tears. 

Joe panicks, having no idea why a minor incident would set Nicky off like that. He rushes with the cleaning of Nicky’s hand, and when that is done he cups that same hand in-between his palms, massaging the inside of Nicky’s wrist.

“Hey, what is it? Why did that make you so upset? These things happen, Nicky. How many times have I gotten a papercut while reading a book? Hundreds.”

Nicky sighs, his shoulders slouching, and he’s not making eye contact with Joe. It’s really not like him to get so upset, at least not for such a prolonged period of time. In any other circumstance it would end with Nicky swearing in Italian and making jokes about his clumsy self. 

“But it _had_ to be perfect,” Nicky says quietly, his head hung low and looking at their linked hands.

“You always make perfect spaghetti,” Joe says and he’s awarded with a tiny, dry chuckle from Nicky. Joe lowers his voice to a whisper. “Come on _Nicolo_ , what is it?”

If the centuries in each other’s company have taught Joe anything, is that using Nicky’s real name is always the golden ticket. Joe loves the gentle, almost intimate sound of his own voice when he says his name and the man seems to share his sentiment.

Nicky looks up at him, his eyes soft and drilling right into Joe’s soul.

“You _do_ always forget,” Nicky says with a fond smile and Joe shoots him a quizzical look. “Today is your birthday, Joe.”

_Oh._

Joe removes one hand from where it’s been clasping Nicky’s and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“You know, I stopped counting after the first three hundred.”

“But I haven’t,” Nicky replies with determination, and there’s something new in the way he’s looking at Joe. Something that was never there before. His eyes are burning with intimacy and a desire neither have shown in the entire 900 years they’ve known each other.

Joe’s hand freezes for a moment on its way back to lay atop Nicky’s, and he doesn’t know how to function. He really needs to stop Nicky being so incredible and looking at him _like that_.

Nicky sighs. “You love my spaghetti the most. It was going to be your birthday gift.” 

Nicky’s look of a kicked puppy would usually be impossible to handle, but Joe’s mind is still more preoccupied trying to regain its stability after _that_ look. 

“Oh Nicky… I— you shouldn’t have,” Joe stumbles on words, unable to comprehend how he’s worthy of having this precious man in his life. The fact that he got this upset over a ruined meal he was specifically making for Joe is enough to send the birthday boy into a frenzy.

Joe can’t help himself - he reaches up and touches Nicky’s cheek. His heart swells up when the man leans into the touch without hesitation. 

“The intent is enough. No one has ever done that for me before,” Joe says softly.

In a moment of wild courage, he props himself up and plants a grateful kiss on Nicky’s forehead before he stands up. He wants to do so much more to show how touched he is by the gesture, but he fears Nicky may not be ready for it. Maybe he’ll never be.

And yet, he surprises Joe when he pulls him down by the collar and clashes his mouth against Joe’s. The force of impact is so strong it sends Nicky backwards into the bathtub - or it would have, had Joe not reacted quickly and grabbed Nicky around the waist with one arm, while using the other to break their fall against the wall on the other side.

The back of his thighs burn as he holds both their weights and hauls Nicky up and toward the middle of the bathroom, both of them giggling like a couple of teenagers.

The moment they’re upright and still very much in a tight embrace, Nicky leans forward to kiss him again, this time slower, almost teasing. Ghosting brushes of lips at first, before he goes all in, making Joe weak in the knees. 

All the times Joe imagined how Nicky would taste pale in comparison to the real thing. Nicky’s taste is intoxicating, like that one snack you’re never able to say no to. Joe lets him lead, and the moment Nicky’s tongue brushes against his he knows he’s done for. With a nibble at Joe’s lower lip, Nicky bucks his hips into Joe, and the other man nearly lets go of him, startled by the friction of their too-tight pants against each other. 

They kiss lazily for a moment, having all the time in the world. Finally their immortality will come in handy.

Joe’s lips trail down Nicky’s jaw and lower onto his throat, enjoying the way the man shudders against him. There are fists clenching the back of Joe’s shirt, holding on for dear life as he works his way down onto Nicky’s exposed collarbones. 

Joe looks at him, long enough to see Nicky gaze back from under hooded eyelids. Joe gives him a final, lingering kiss on the lips and pulls away, but does not remove his arms from around Nicky’s waist. 

God, it feels so good to hold him like that, knowing he’s finally his.

“Now _that_ ,” Joe starts and gives Nicky a quick peck on the nose, “is what I call a birthday gift.”


End file.
